Mommy Dearest
by Tyger Magick
Summary: AU about Emily Ryan. Emily didn't die of an anneurism. She was murdered at Mr. Stubbs, but what no one knew is that she was immortal and on Richie's 20th err or rather at the suggestion of a few people, 18th birthday Emily contacts him. Ch 2 is now up.
1. The Letter

Disclaimer: I do not own Highlander or any of the characters. I'm not making any money from this.

AN: Remember this is an AU, so the original events of Emily's death have been altered and as of now the episode where Richie was looking for his long lost father is non existent. I hope you enjoy.

Richie glared over the glow of candles at Mac and Tessa as the five servers surrounding the table sang happy birthday to him. He had specifically told them no cakes, no singing, no presents. Richie hadn't even wanted to go out to eat, but the couple had insisted.

Richie could tell they were both trying not to laugh as the servers finished the song. Mac thanked them and they returned to their respective posts.

"Aren't you going to blow out the candles?" Tessa asked smiling.

"Don't you think I'm a little old to have happy birthday sung to me at a restaurant?" Richie asked.

"Not at all," Mac replied. "Tessa did the same thing to me on my three hundred and ninety-eighth birthday."

Richie rolled his eyes and blew out the candles. "You guys really didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"You only turn eighteen once," Tessa said pulling a small box wrapped in blue paper out from underneath the table and handing it to him.

"Okay it's bad enough with the cake and singing, but I told you guys no gifts," Richie whined.

"Sue us," Mac said. "It's your birthday, enjoy it a little."

Richie sighed and opened the box. He removed a silver ID bracelet. His name was engraved on the front. He flipped it over. "Love Mac and Tessa," He read aloud.

Richie smiled sheepishly. "You guys didn't have to do this you know."

"We know," Mac said. "But we wanted to."

"Thanks," Richie said putting the bracelet on.

"There's more," Tessa said. "Lift the cardboard piece."

Richie did as Tessa said. "No way," He exclaimed removing two Queen concert tickets from the box. "How did you guys get these? They've been sold out for weeks!"

Mac laughed at the look of excitement on Richie's face. "It's good when you know people."

"We thought you would enjoy them," Tessa said. "Perhaps you can take Angie."

Richie nodded. "I'll ask her." He replaced the tickets into the box. "Listen you guys, I appreciate this. I mean, no one has ever gotten me anything for my birthday before except for Emily."

"We know," Tessa said taking Richie's hand. "That's why we wanted to do something special for you."

The trio finished their meal at the restaurant and paid the bill. Richie wanted to pay for his portion but Mac wouldn't hear of it. Even now it still felt awkward that they were so nice to him. It was a big change from all the other families he had lived with. When you grow up on your own, it's hard to accept when other people do nice things for you.

"I honestly don't see why you like them," Tessa said getting out of the car. On the way home she had conceded to let Richie play his Queen tape. She thought she would go mad before they reached the loft. "That is not music."

"Just because it's not soft and quiet doesn't mean it's not music," Richie said.

"Music doesn't have to be soft and quiet," Tessa said as they walked to the front door. "But it shouldn't make your head hurt."

Mac stifled a laugh. He loved watching them argue.

"You don't like it because you're too old," Richie said.

"What!"

"I didn't mean it like that," Richie said quickly. "I just meant that it's not from your generation."

"That better have been what you meant," Tessa said elbowing him playfully.

Mac unlocked the door and walked inside. Seeing an envelope on the floor he picked it up.

"Richie," He called.

"Yeah Mac," The birthday boy asked walking over to him.

The Highlander handed the envelope to the younger man. "It's for you."

Richie took the envelope with a confused look on his face. "Who's it from?"

Mac shrugged. "It doesn't say."

Richie opened the envelope and pulled out a letter. After a minute of reading his face lost color.

"Richie what's wrong?" Tessa asked worriedly.

Richie ignored her and continued reading. He walked to the couch and sat down.

"Tough guy?" Mac asked sitting next to him.

"It's not possible," Richie said looking at the Highlander with wide eyes. "It's just not possible."

Mac gently took the letter from a trembling Richie. Tessa sat on the other side of Richie and put a reassuring arm around his shoulders as Mac read the letter.

_Dearest Richie,_

_I don't know if you remember me. My name is Emily Ryan. The last time we were together you were very small, only five years old. I truly hope our last day together is a not something you remember. It's wasn't pleasant and no child should have to go through such a thing._

_Richie, I was your mother for a time. Not your birth mother, but your mother in every other sense of the word. I'm sorry I haven't been there to see you grow up, but I have been keeping tabs on you. I had meant to contact you on so many occasions in the past, but circumstances beyond my control prevented me from doing so._

_So now on your eighteenth birthday I'm sending you this letter. I've missed you terribly and I want to see you again. If you remember me or you just want to know who I am, please meet me at the Monster Arcade at one-thirty on Saturday. I'll be waiting and I hope to see you there._

_Love,_

_Emily_

"I don't understand," Mac said after reading it. "Why is it not possible?"

Richie leaned back against the pillows.

"Richie?" Tessa pressed.

The young man sighed heavily. "Emily was murdered."

**Please Review**


	2. One Last Memory

AN: Thanks for the reviews guys. Let's remember that I reposted chapter one and Richie is only eighteen. I love the constructive criticism, so as long as it is constructive bring it on. Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy.

"What do you mean she was murdered?" Tessa asked her eyes widening.

"Murdered," Richie repeated angrily. "Killed, you know she had her life taken from her."

"She knew what you meant by murdered," Mac said wryly. "I think the question now is what happened?"

Richie leaned his head against the back cushions of the sofa and sighed heavily. "It was so long ago. I haven't thought about it in a long time."

"Well just start at the beginning," Mac said placing a hand on the back of Richie's neck and massaging it gently.

"Why," Richie asked pulling away from Mac. "I mean she's dead. Whoever wrote this is just playing some cruel joke."

"Tell us what happened," Tessa pleaded taking the young man's hand.

Richie pursed his lips. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about this. Whoever had written the letter was right. The last memory he had of Emily was not a pleasant one.

Richie treasured his memories for the simple fact he could not remember what he truly wanted to know; who his parents were. So every new memory Richie made he tried desperately to hold on to. Still Richie's last memory of Emily Ryan, was one he was willing to forget.

"Come on tough guy," Mac said. "Tell us what's going on."

Richie looked up at Mac with pain in his eyes. The Highlander hated to make Richie talk about something painful, but he needed to know what was going on. Things that were not of the norm always seemed to happen to them, so he couldn't just take this with a grain of salt. Not that the circumstances would let him do that anyways.

"Richie, I know this hard for you," Mac said, referring to the fact that Richie almost never talks about his past. "But I really need you to tell me what happened."

Richie grumbled something neither Mac nor Tessa could comprehend.

"What was that?" Tessa asked.

Richie ran a tense hand through his curls. "I said I'm the one who got her killed."

1977

Little Richie Ryan skipped happily along side his mother Emily. It was a beautiful day in Seacouver. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and it was spring so there was warmth in the air. Best of all it was post office day. They had just left the post office and Richie knew that meant they were on their way to Mr. Stubbs Candy Shop. That meant Richie was going to get liquorish, his favorite. Richie loved post office day.

Mr. Stubbs smiled warmly as Richie and Emily entered the candy shop. "And how are my two favorite customers doing?"

Emily met the older man's smile with one of her own. "Richie and I are doing all right, aren't we little man?"

Richie's blonde curls bobbed back and forth as he nodded his head vigorously.

"You're getting bigger every time I see you," Mr. Stubbs told him. "Are you behaving for your mother?"

"Yes sir," Richie replied scratching his head.

"That's a good boy," Mr. Stubbs said.

"Can I have some liquorish now?" The little boy asked.

"Richie," Emily scolded.

Mr. Stubbs chuckled. "That's all right Emily." He reached into the jar and pulled out a handful of liquorish. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Richie said eagerly taking the candy. He popped a piece in his mouth and darted for the comics.

Emily laughed watching Richie pull down one of the comics. After a moment she turned back to Mr. Stubbs. "Here's my check."

Mr. Stubbs took the slip of paper. He handed Emily the amount of the check, minus the amount for the liquorish. "You've got a good boy on your hands there Emily."

"I know," Emily said glancing proudly at the young boy. "He's growing up too fast."

The two chatted for a while longer and then Emily went over to Richie. "It's time to go little man." She held out her hand.

Richie replaced the comic he had been looking at and took Emily's hand.

"I'm thirsty," Richie said.

"Let's get a drink before we go," Emily said smiling. "It's a long walk home."

They walked over to the coolers. Emily retrieved a coke bottle and handed it to Richie.

"Hold on tight," She said. "It's made of glass."

Richie nodded. "Okay."

"Everybody get your hands up," A man yelled running through the door. He had a gun in his hand and a ski mask over his face.

Emily stepped in front of Richie and put her hands up. Richie clung to the glass bottle in his hand. His heart was pounding wildly. Guns were bad and dangerous. His mommy had taught him that. This man had a gun and that terrified little Richie.

"Open the register," The robber said pointing the gun at Mr. Stubbs.

Mr. Stubbs frantically tried to do as he was told, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't hit the right key on the register.

"Hurry up," The man yelled.

"Leave him alone," Richie yelled stepping from behind Emily. His fear was forgotten at the moment. Richie liked Mr. Stubbs a whole lot and he didn't like this man being so mean to him.

"Richie be quiet," Emily said.

"Keep that kid of yours in check," The man said angrily pointing the gun at the young figure.

"Leave the boy alone," Mr. Stubbs said as the register popped open.

"You shut up," The man hit Mr. Stubbs with the gun.

"Mr. Stubbs!" Richie screamed running for the old man.

Richie dropped the coke bottle. The loud noise startled the gunman who turned towards the little boy. Emily grabbed Richie and turned just as the man fired his gun. She screamed as the bullet burned through her back. She collapsed on top of a once again terrified Richie.

The gunman, frantic and confused forgot about the money and ran out of the store.

Mr. Stubbs ran over to Emily, blood trickling down his face. "Richie," He called kneeling next to Emily. He helped the young boy out from underneath his mother. A blood soaked Richie clung to him as Mr. Stubbs ran back to the phone and called 911.

"Richie, I want you to stay here behind the counter all right," Mr. Stubbs hung the phone up and placed Richie on the stool the old man himself usually used. Richie was small enough that he couldn't see over the counter to where Emily's bloody body was lying.

Richie nodded and Mr. Stubbs went quickly back to Emily. The young woman's back was drenched in blood.

"Emily?" He asked gently rolling her over.

"Mr. Stubbs," She said dazed.

"Shh, don't talk," The old man told her. "Help is on the way."

Emily shook her head. "They won't make it in time." She coughed up blood. "Tell Richie that I love him."

"Don't talk like that Emily," He said. "You're going to be just fine." Mr. Stubbs knew she was going to die, but he didn't want to frighten Emily. Even now more blood was pooling around underneath her.

Emily smiled sadly. "Just tell Richie, please."

Mr. Stubbs went to reassure Emily that she would be all right, but she had taken her last breath. Her lifeless eyes stared up at him. Sighing sadly Mr. Stubbs closed Emily's eyes.

The ambulances and police came taking notes and asking questions. They had taken Richie outside and sat him on the back of a squad car. After the once over they realized most of the blood on Richie had been Emily's. He had a few cuts on his arms from the broken glass of the coke bottle, but other than that he was fine.

Well physically anyways. Emotionally and psychologically Richie was far from fine. His young mind was attempting to register everything that had just happened. His heart was still pounding wildly and he wanted to see his mommy.

Little Richie watched the coroner wheel away Emily's body. He didn't understand what was going on. Why were they taking away his mommy? Why was there a white sheet over her face?

Richie jumped out of the back of the car and chased after them. "Mommy, mommy!" He yelled.

A black and white uniformed officer who had seen the little boy take off quickly grabbed him before he could get to Emily's corpse.

"Whoa, hold on a second," The officer said scooping him up.

"I want to see my mommy," Richie said struggling in the officers arms.

The officer set Richie on the ground. The boy tried to run, but the officer held on to him by the arms. "Hey champ listen to me. My name is Officer Banks."

Richie looked at the officer, but he was anxious to get to his mommy. She was hurt and Richie wanted to be with her. "Why can't I see my mommy?" He asked worriedly.

Banks opened his mouth to explain but Mr. Stubbs came over and put a hand on Richie's shoulder. "I'm sorry little man. I am so sorry."

The little boy turned to look at the old man. "Mr. Stubbs, where are they taking my mommy?" Richie asked in a small, scared voice.

"Richie your mother," Mr. Stubbs stopped. He didn't know how to tell him. "Your mommy has gone to heaven."

"The bad man killed her?" Richie asked, tears streaking his face as it dawned on him why no one would let him see Emily.

Mr. Stubbs nodded. "I'm sorry little man."

"I want to see her," Richie yelled trying to run past Mr. Stubbs, but Officer Banks still had a hold on him so he didn't get very far. "I want to see her," Richie yelled again.

"I can't let you do that, Richie," Banks said sternly, but gently.

"Why not," Richie asked almost hysterically. "She's my mommy."

Mr. Stubbs kneeled down next to the boy and said, "Richie, your mommy loved you very much. She wanted me to tell you that, and I know she wouldn't want you to see her the way she is now, but she would want you to remember how she was."

"I want my mommy," Richie said sadly. He leaned into Mr. Stubbs and cried.

Please Review


	3. Let's Run

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews and the pointers. I'm getting so sick of my grammar mistakes so I asked SouthernChickie to Beta and she so graciously has agreed. Thank you SoutherChickie you ROCK! Okay enough with the tangents and on with the story.

"I'm so sorry, Richie," Tessa said taking his hand. "That must have been awful, but that wasn't your fault."

Richie gave her an unbelieving glance. How could it not be his fault? The man shot Emily because Richie dropped the coke bottle.

"Tessa's right, Richie, you had no control over the situation," Mac said staring at him intensely. He knew that what he was saying was probably going in one ear and out the other. Richie could be stubborn at the worst times. "You were just a child. You had no concept of what could have happened."

"So, anyways now you know why Emily couldn't possibly have written that letter," Richie said, changing the subject back.

Mac raised an eyebrow and stared at Richie. It wasn't due to the change of subject. It was because Richie was being very naïve at the moment.

"What?" Richie finally asked after several moments of staring back at Duncan with a blank look.

"You really think it's not possible for Emily to be alive," The Highlander asked.

"She died in front of me," Richie said.

Mac nodded. "And I've died more times than I can count."

Richie's jaw dropped. It wasn't possible, was it? "You think Emily's an immortal?"

"It would make sense," Tessa said nodding in acquiescence to Mac's statement.

"But then why didn't she contact me before now?" Richie asked curiously.

Mac leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. "Richie, before you saw what happened with me and Connor what would you have thought if Emily came waltzing back into your life?"

He shrugged. "I don't know." Richie stood up and began pacing. "But that doesn't mean she shouldn't have. She was the only mother who was decent to me, or at least I thought she was decent to me, but it turns out she abandoned me."

"She didn't abandon you, Richie," Mac said, watching the youth pace around angrily. "America knows Emily Ryan to be dead. She couldn't just show up and take you away."

"Why not?" Richie asked furiously. "She could have taken me to another country. We could have gotten new names and new identities. I could have grown up with her!"

"You would have been on the run your whole life," Mac said. "Missing children are always top priority, even in other countries."

"I don't care," Richie said. "We would have been together."

"Richie, it seems Emily only wanted the best for you," Tessa said. "Being on the run is no life for a child."

"It's better than the life I had without her," Richie snapped. He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Are you going to meet her?" Tessa asked.

Richie planted his hands on his hips and shrugged. "I don't know." It was a lot to think about. Emily was alive. She was immortal for Christ's sake. It was too much for him to take right now. He shook his head as if he could throw the thoughts from his mind. "I'm going for a walk."

"Be careful," Tessa called as Richie walked out the door. "That went well," She drawled turning to Duncan.

"He's upset," Mac shrugged. "That's to be expected."

"Do you think he'll be all right?" Tessa asked worriedly.

Mac put an arm around her shoulders. "He'll be fine, Tessa. Let him take the time he needs to himself. He needs to work this out."

"Do you think he'll meet Emily?" Tessa asked leaning into his embrace.

Mac sighed and laid his head on top of hers. "I don't know, Tess, but like I said, he needs to decide this for himself."

"How was your walk?" Mac asked when Richie walked in the door. He was polishing one of the many swords he had on display.

"You didn't have to wait up for me Mac," The teen said as he flung his jacket over the back of a chair. He leaned a hand on the back of the chair and plopped the other hand on his hip.

"I wasn't waiting up," Mac replied neutrally, not even glancing at Richie. "I got fidgety and decided to clean some of my swords."

Richie wasn't buying it, but he was too tired to argue. He shook his head and walked into the living room. He fell onto the couch and threw his arm over his face. This was not turning out to be a good birthday at all. Sure it was at first, with the dinner (though he had protested) he truly liked the thought that Mac and Tessa had given him gifts and subjected him to the humility of having happy birthday sung to him.

It was those little things that Richie had missed growing up with a real family. It was those things he missed because Emily had ran out on him. Life always started out good, but Richie knew that sooner or later something bad would come along and muck everything up.

"Want to talk about it?" Mac asked sitting in the chair across from the coffee table.

"What's there to talk about?" Richie's mumbled voice asked through his arm.

Mac shrugged. "Whatever it is that's on your mind."

Richie removed his arm from his face and looked over at the Highlander. "I don't want to talk about Emily."

"Who said you had to?" Mac asked sitting back in the chair. He crossed his legs and stared with a blank gaze at the young man. It wasn't pressuring, or expecting, it was just compassionate. Richie hated that.

"I don't think I can forgive her, Mac," Richie said out of the blue. "I mean I could forgive her for dying, because that wasn't her fault…"

"But you still think it's yours," Mac said bluntly.

"But her abandoning me like that," Richie said ignoring Mac's statement. "I don't know if I can forgive her for that."

Mac sighed and leaned forward on his knees. "I can't make this decision for you, Richie. This is something you have to do on your own. If you want to see her, go see her. If you don't want to, than don't."

"It's not that simple," Richie said tensely. "I mean I have questions for her, but I'm so mad at her. I just know my life would have been different had she stayed."

"But different for better or for worse?" Mac asked.

Richie rolled his eyes and looked up at him. "My past isn't exactly all ice cream and cakes you know."

Mac nodded. "I know, but how do you know you're life would have been any better if Emily had been there?"

"It just would have all right," Richie snapped, getting annoyed.

"Really, let me ask you something," Mac said seriously. "In Emily's letter she said she wanted to contact you before, but circumstances prevented her from doing so. Now tell me tough guy, what exactly do you think those circumstances were?"

"It could have been anything," Richie argued sitting up.

"Or it could have been that an immortal was after her," Mac said confidently. He was almost positive that was why she hadn't contacted Richie before this. "If you had been with Emily and another immortal wanted her that badly what do you think they would have done with you?"

"And what about all the times Tessa's been in danger?" Richie asked. "Huh, I mean you're not leaving her just because her life's at risk!"

"If you recall I did try to leave Tessa, but she chose to stay," Mac reminded him.

"Yeah, and I would have stayed with Emily," Richie stated.

"Richie, there's a difference," Mac drawled. "Tessa is a grown woman. She makes the choices for her own life. You were only a child; you couldn't make that same decision for yourself."

"I was never given the chance," Richie angrily stood up. He paced back and forth in front of the coffee table, his mind and heart racing so fast he felt as if he were going to explode.

"Richie, calm down," Mac said getting up. He grabbed the boy by the shoulders so that they were face to face. "This isn't helping anything."

"I can't help it," Richie sighed. "I feel like if I sit still I'm going to lose it."

Mac nodded in understanding. "All right, go change into something you can work out in."

"What?" Richie asked confused.

"Go change," Mac repeated. "I'll do the same and meet you back down in here in ten minutes."

"For what?" Richie asked.

"You said you can't sit still right?" Mac asked.

Richie nodded, still not sure where the Highlander was going with this.

"Than we won't," Mac replied simply. "We'll go for a run." With that he walked up the stairs and out of sight.

Richie followed him up the stairs and went to his own room. He changed into a pair of navy sweats, a white shirt, and a gray long sleeve shirt. It was, after all, cold outside.

"Ready?" Mac asked when Richie came down the stairs.

"As I'll ever be," Richie replied sullenly. It's not that he didn't want to go running, with Mac. On the contrary, he thought it was a great idea. He just had so much on his mind that he didn't have the motivation to be his usual annoying self.

"Let's go," Mac said opening the door.

Richie went out in front of him and the two began stretching.

"You know I don't really want to talk about this," Richie said pulling his arm sideways across his head. He looked at Mac intently wondering if the Highlander had some secret philosophical wisdom he was about to spew out.

Stretching his hamstring Mac asked, "Who's talking? I thought we were running." He looked over at Richie with a humorous glint in his eye.

Richie couldn't help but smirk. "Smart ass," He mumbled under his breath.

Mac chuckled and the two began to run. The wind was crisp on their faces turning both of their noses a bright pinkish red color. There breath came out of their mouths in small little puff clouds and Richie was grateful that was all that was coming out.

Running was keeping him occupied and that's what he needed. He didn't want to think about Mr. Stubbs, or Emily, or his past. Richie wanted a clear mind before he truly started thinking about it.

When he had gone for a walk earlier it had been to get away from the interrogation that had been courtesy of Mac and Tessa. In all honesty he pushed Emily as far away from his mind as possible. He wasn't ready to take on that task just yet. He didn't know why, but he just wasn't ready to face it.

"Slow up Mac," Richie said breathlessly. His stamina was just not up to Highlanders. "I need a breather." He slowed his pace to a fast walk.

Mac nodded and slowed so that he was walking next to Richie. "You okay?"

The teen nodded. "Yeah, I just can't keep up with someone who's been doing this for over four hundred years." He grinned.

"So you're saying you can't keep up with an old man?" Mac asked with a mischievous grin.

"Hey," Richie said pointing a finger at him. "You may be old by number, but your body doesn't age, so you've had a lot more practice."

Mac laughed and playfully grabbed the back of Richie's neck. "Come on tough guy, let's head back to the house."

The two did an about face and began walking back towards the shop. Suddenly the sky lit up and thunder crashed around them.

"You've got to be kidding me," Richie drawled. He stopped, putting his hands on his hips and staring up at the cloud filled sky. "This night could not possibly get any worse." A moment later the sky opened up and thick raindrops began splattering on his upturned face. "Apparently I spoke to soon." Mac laughed and Richie looked at him. "You think this is funny," He asked indignantly as rage began to boil inside of him.

Mac sobered at the look of irritation on Richie's face. The Highlander realized that maybe the stress was taking its toll on the younger man. "Richie…"

"No," Richie said angrily, throwing his hands up in frustration. "It's nice to know you get a kick out of my misfortune." Richie walked past Mac over to the alley.

"Richie," Mac drawled after him.

Richie wasn't listening. The rain poured down around him in thick droplets and he wished it would wash away the rage that was inside of him. His life had been so screwed up and it had all been Emily's fault. Damn it! He cursed to himself.

The next thing Richie knew he was kicking a garbage can repeatedly. He was screaming something but he couldn't make out his own voice. He grabbed the garbage can and flung it as far and as hard as he could.

Then there were arms around him and his heart stopped for just a moment before he began struggling fiercely. "Let go of me!"

Mac was horrified by Richie's outburst. He'd never seen the kid lose it before, not like that. "Richie calm down." The boy struggled fiercely in his arms.

"Damn you Keating, let go of me." He said struggling as best he could. He was not going to go through it again.

'Who the hell was Keating?' Mac wondered as he tried to restrain Richie. Growing weary of it all he spun Richie around and grabbed him by the arms. "Richie, it's Duncan," He said fiercely. He didn't want to scare the boy, but he needed to get through to him.

Mac watched as the glaze over Richie's eyes began to fade. They were both soaked from the rain and Richie was shivering. Whether it was from the cold, or whatever Richie had just experienced Mac couldn't be sure.

"Mac?" Richie asked meekly.

The Highlander eased his grip on the young man. "Yeah it's me, tough guy," He said gently rubbing the back of Richie's neck.

The teen suddenly felt very drained. All his energy was beyond diminished. The world was rimmed with black edges. Richie's knees buckled and he was headed straight for the ground. Only Mac's strong arms kept him from slamming his knees into the asphalt.

"Richie, look at me," Mac said worriedly. The teen looked up at him with tired, weary eyes. "Are you all right?"

Richie nodded and smiled weakly. "I guess the run took more out of me than I thought." He was still shivering slightly.

"Come on tough guy," Mac said helping him up. "Let's get you back to the shop before you get sick." He tried to keep an arm around Richie, but the young man would have none of it.

"I can walk, Mac."

The Highlander nodded in succession, knowing that arguing would only take more energy out of the teen. On the walk home Mac stayed close enough to him to catch him if he collapsed again, but far enough away so that Richie wouldn't feel his personal space was being invaded.

Richie made it back to the loft without completely collapsing, although he did stumble a time or two. Mac's steady arm was probably the only thing that kept the teen from eating concrete.

"What happened?" Tessa asked worriedly, taking in Richie's haggard appearance. She had been sitting on the couch reading a book when the two men walked in. He wasn't just soaked to the bone, his eyes seemed to be sunken in and there were extremely dark circles looming underneath them. It was not the same boy who had gone for a walk earlier.

"I thought you were sleeping," Richie said ignoring her question.

"The storm woke me," Tessa said putting her book aside and walking over to them. "Are you all right Richie?"

"I'm fine, Tessa," Richie sighed. "The run took a lot more out of me than I thought it would."

"Run?" Tessa asked incredulously. "You took him out running in this weather?"

"It wasn't raining when we left," Mac drawled.

Tessa shook her head and muttered something Richie couldn't understand because she said it in French. "You get up stairs and take a shower," She walked behind Richie and pushed him towards the stairs. "Hurry up before you get sick."

Mac stifled a laugh as he watches Tessa ordering Richie around. The boy looked so young and vulnerable right now. It was as if he had just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar. There was no way Mac couldn't be amused.

"I'm going, I'm going," Richie said in resignation.

Tessa watched Richie from the bottom of the stairs. "And straight to bed afterwards," She yelled when he was out of sight.

Please Review


	4. Talking It Out

AN: Thank you for your patience and reviews. Shout out to SouthernChickie for being my beta/influence/partial motivation for this story. She rocks! I have to say much of the credit of this story belongs to her. Anyways enough jabber on with the story.

"Maybe I should call a doctor," Tessa said worriedly looking at her watch. The hands told her that it was 4:47pm. Richie had slept through the night and well through the day.

Mac smirked. Tessa hadn't stopped fussing over the boy since last night. She had checked on him at least a dozen times. Sometimes her excuse would be she wanted to make sure he wasn't getting sick, so she wanted to see if he had a fever. Most of the other times were because he had been whimpering in his sleep. Tessa had woken him, but his eyes only stayed open for a moment or two before he drifted back to sleep.

"Relax, Tess," Mac said finishing up some paperwork at his desk. "He's fine, just exhausted."

"If he's just exhausted how do you explain the emotional outburst he had last night?" Tessa asked cocking her left hip out and resting a hand on it. "And the nightmares?"

Mac sighed. "Richie has a lot on his mind right now." He put his pen down and leaned back in his chair. "Emily coming back is bringing back old memories, whether consciously or subconsciously. I don't even think Richie remembers calling me Keating."

"And that's another thing," Tessa said walking up to the desk. She leaned over resting her palms flat against the smooth mahogany surface. "Who is this Keating man? For Richie to react that way Keating must have hurt him somehow."

Mac had been thinking the same thing. He hadn't asked Richie last night because the boy had been drained emotionally and physically. The teen wouldn't have been able to handle going into painful memories. Another outburst like the first one and Richie would have passed out. Hell, the boy was so weak he didn't even need to have an outburst. All he had to do was get angry and that would have taken enough energy out of Richie to make him collapse.

"I don't know who Keating is," Mac admitted. "I'll talk to Richie about it when he wakes up."

Tessa pushed herself off the desk, crossed her arms over her chest, and began pacing again. "I still think I should call a doctor."

Mac rolled his eyes and grinned at Tessa's maternal instincts. In another life Tessa would have made a great mother, the Highlander had no doubt about that. It made his heart ache sometimes that he couldn't give Tessa what she truly wanted. Children, Mac knew, would complete Tessa's life in more way than one.

"He'll be fine, Tessa," Mac drawled.

"Yeah, see," Richie said walking into the room. He held out his arms as though he were on display. "I'm fine. No bruises, no sneezing, and no coughing." He turned around in a circle so they could get a clear view of all of him. "I was just tired, Tessa, that's all." He smiled tiredly at her.

Not quite believing him, Tessa walked up to him and put a hand on his forehead. "Well, you don't have a fever."

Richie gently took her hand away from his head. "That's because I'm not sick, Tessa. I'm fine, I promise." He stomach growled. "Okay, well, maybe I'm a little hungry."

Tessa smiled. "I'll go make you something to eat."

Richie nodded. "Thanks, Tess."

Tessa walked out of the office, leaving Richie and Mac by themselves. Richie took the seat across from Duncan and slumped down.

"You okay, tough guy?" Mac asked taking in Richie's weary appearance.

"Why does she fuss over me like that?" Richie drawled propping his head in his hand. "I can take care of myself."

"She cares about you tough guy," Mac explained. "She doesn't want to see anything bad happen to you."

Richie looked at the ID bracelet dangling on his wrist. Then he grabbed hold of the crystal around his neck. It was the same crystal Emily had given him. She had left him not soon after that. Richie wondered if that meant Mac and Tessa were going to leave him as well.

"What's going on inside that head of yours, tough guy?" Mac asked, noticing the pensive look on Richie's face.

"Why did you guys give me this bracelet?" Richie asked suspiciously. If they were planning on taking off he wanted to know about it now.

Mac didn't know where the teen was taking this. "It was a birthday present, Richie," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We thought you'd like it."

"Are you sure that's the only reason?" Richie said quietly. He gripped the crystal around his neck.

"Where are you going with this?" Mac asked raising an eyebrow. He was curious as to why the teen was being so suspicious.

"Are you guys planning on kicking me out?" Richie asked bluntly. He was tired of beating around the bush. He wanted to know the truth.

Mac's jaw dropped. "Richie, what on earth would make you think we were planning on throwing you out?"

"Emily gave me this crystal for my birthday," Richie said pointing to the quartz around his neck. "It wasn't long after that she abandoned me."

"So you think because we gave you that bracelet we were going to do the same thing?" Mac asked as it all clicked into place.

Richie shrugged. "It makes sense." He was staring at the floor so hard you'd think diamonds had spurted out of the ground.

Getting up, Mac sighed. He walked around and sat on the edge of the desk so he was directly across from the teen. "Look at me, tough guy," he said gently. Richie tentatively met the Highlanders gaze. "Tessa and I are not going to throw you out, and we're not going to run out on you." He put a compassionate hand on Richie's shoulder. "We got you those gifts because we care about you. That's it."

Relief flooded into Richie's eyes. He let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. It hadn't dawned on him until just now how much he cared about Mac and Tessa. He liked living with them. They had been the first people to treat him decently in a long time. "Really?"

Mac nodded. "Really," he agreed, smiling. The smile quickly fell from his lips. "Richie, I do want to talk to you about something serious though."

"What?" Richie asked suspiciously.

"Last night, when you had your outburst," Mac began, watching as the boy visibly reddened from the memory. "You called me Keating." All color left Richie's face. "Who is he?"

"I called you Keating?" Richie asked. He couldn't have, could he? The teen hadn't thought about Keating in years.

Mac nodded. "Yeah, you did." Noticing Richie was uncomfortable he gently said, "You don't have to be afraid to tell me, tough guy. I'm not going to think less of you or kick you out."

Richie shifted in his seat. "Listen, Mac, I know you're worried, but don't sweat it. Keating was just an old foster parent," He tried to sound like his usual self when he said it. "I probably just had a case of temporary insanity or something."

"You were terrified, Richie," Mac stated, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's not a feeling you get with some mundane foster parent. What aren't you telling me?"

"It's nothing," Richie snapped, his eyes burning with an angry fire. "Keating was an old foster parent, that's all." He stood up. "Just leave it alone for once will you?"

Realizing he wasn't going to get anything out of Richie right now, Mac nodded. "All right, I'll leave it alone." He stood up so that he was face to face with Richie. "But I'm here if you ever want to talk about it."

The rage in Richie's eyes had faded, leaving weariness and heartache in its place. "There's nothing to talk about, Mac."

"Richie, come and eat," Tessa called.

"Coming, Tess," he called back still looking at the Highlander. "I'm all right, Mac. You don't have to worry about me."

"Go on," the Highlander said. "Tessa's waiting."

Richie fell out of bed, hitting the floor with a resounding thud. The annoying beep of his alarm clock kept buzzing in his ear. He slammed the snooze button. He shook his head trying to shake away the remnants of the nightmare he'd been gripped in. He was grateful his alarm had gone off and pulled him out of it, but the consistent buzzing was still annoying as hell. Richie ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair and pulled himself back on the bed.

"Richie," Mac called through his door.

"Come in, Mac," the teen replied.

The door opened. "Are you all right?" the Highlander asked walking over to him. "I heard a thud from downstairs."

Richie nodded. "Alarm scared the hell out of me and I fell out of bed." It was partly true.

Mac looked skeptical. "If that's all then why are you covered in sweat?"

"I had a nightmare," Richie shrugged. "No big deal."

"About Keating?" Mac asked bluntly.

Richie tensed up. "No," he said defensively, even though he knew it was a lie. It had been two days since Mac had tried to talk to him about Keating. Ever since then Richie had been having nightmares about his old foster father.

"Richie you've been screaming his name out in your sleep," Mac said gently. "Tell me what's going on?"

Richie sighed. "Mac, I…" he trailed off.

The Highlander put a gentle hand on the boy's tense shoulder. "It's all right, tough guy. Tell me what happened."

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	5. Keating

AN: Here you go guys, sorry for the wait. I thought I had posted this chapter, but apparently not lol. Thanks again to SouthernChickie for all the help. Please Review.

Richie wiped his face wearily. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Keating. Still he found himself speaking: "I was fifteen and Keating was my last foster father before I wound up living on the streets…,"

1989

Richie quietly crept in the door to Keating's house. He hoped that the older man was out or sleeping so he wouldn't know that Richie had been late getting home. Richie tiptoed to his room and put his backpack away. Then he went to the kitchen to start his chores.

Richie's heart skipped a beat when he entered the kitchen. Keating was sitting at the table with his feet propped on a second chair. His eyes were dark and twinkled with the promise of a punishment that was very, very painful.

"Where have you been?" Keating asked in his southern drawl.

"At school," Richie answered truthfully.

"School was over an hour and a half ago," Keating said in a low tone. "So don't lie to me boy."

"I'm not lying," Richie exclaimed. "I got thrown into detention!"

Keating asked, "What for?"

Riche clamped his jaw shut. He knew if he came out with the truth Keating was not going to be pleased.

"I asked you a question boy," Keating yelled.

Richie jumped, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. "I got caught smoking in the bathroom."

Keating shook his head, but kept eye contact with the teenager. "You can't stay out of a trouble can you? You get in trouble at school, with the cops, with me. If you weren't such a trouble maker that one foster mom of yours would probably still be alive."

Richie visibly winced from the accusation. He hadn't meant to get Emily killed. He knew it was his fault, but he wished Keating didn't have to remind him all the time. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it, boy," Keating said getting up. He had an electrical cord in his hand.

Richie's eyes widened. His heart began to race even faster from the fear that flooded him. He took a step back. "Keating, no I'm sorry! It'll never happen again!" It wasn't the first time he'd been hit with that thing, but in no way did he want to have it happen again.

"Take off your shirt boy." Keating said walking towards him.

Richie took another step back, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps at the memory of being whipped the last time. He could feel the cord searing through his flesh just from thinking about it.

"Don't make this worse on yourself."

He took another step.

"Take off your shirt, boy!" Keating yelled.

Richie's panic took over and despite his better judgment he ran. He tore through the living room, jumped over the coffee table, and bolted out the door. He could hear Keating's footsteps pounding the pavement mere seconds behind him. His mind raced to find the best route of escape, but he had been so preoccupied with getting away, his mind couldn't piece together how. The plan was a giant jigsaw puzzle that his brain couldn't fit together.

All Richie knew for sure was that he was not going back. He couldn't get beat again, not like last time. He was willing to face the unknown terrain of the street. Anywhere seemed like Heaven compared to the place he just came from.

Keating's voice traveled up the wind to him, "You're only making it worse on yourself, boy."

Richie's legs burned as he pushed himself farther. He had to find someplace to hide. He couldn't run down the street forever. Frantic to find an escape, Richie ducked down an alley hoping to find a short cut. He received an assaulting smell of grease and rotten food as he ran between the restaurants. Between the smell and his fear Richie felt his stomach begin to churn.

Richie looked over his shoulder to see how close Keating was. Not paying attention to where he was going he ran into a chain link fence. He bounced off and landed hard on his butt. Keating was just behind him. Frantically he stood up and began climbing the fence.

"You shouldn't have run, boy," Keating said jerking him down. Richie fell hard on his side.

Richie pushed himself back against the fence. "Please don't."

Keating shook his head and smiled. "I was only going to give you a few licks before," He said. "But with you runnin' and all it's going to be a lot worse now."

Keating walked up to him. Richie pushed himself against the fence so hard it bowed. "It's not going to happen here," He told the teen. "But you're going to walk with me back to the house without any trouble. The more trouble you cause, the worse it's going to be, got it?"

Richie looked around frantically for any means of escape. Keating grabbed his arm and jerked him up. A terrified Richie tried to jerk his arm away, but it was no use. He kicked Keating in the shin and the man let go of his arm. Richie tried to run, but Keating caught him around the waist and threw Richie to the ground. He kicked the teen in the gut knocking the wind out of him.

Keating kneeled next to Richie as the boy tried to catch his breath. "I told you to come along quietly." He grabbed Richie's arm again and helped him up again. "No more stunts, boy."

Richie nodded in defeat, trying to gasp in air. It was hard to keep control of his breath between his heart racing and his lungs protesting against actually working. It was all Richie could do to make his legs walk along side Keating's. His mind and body screamed for him to fun away, but he knew if he tried to run anymore that Keating would do more than just beat him with the electrical cord. Richie would probably land in the hospital.

Once they were inside the house, Keating locked the door. If Richie tried to run again he'd have to stop and unlock the door, giving Keating the extra time he needed to catch the boy.

Keating walked over to the coffee table and picked up the cord up from where he'd left it. He turned to Richie. "Take off your shirt," He said menacingly.

Shaking, Richie brought his hands to his shirt, but found that he couldn't take it off. He was petrified of what was about to come.

"Do it, boy," Keating barked.

Reluctantly Richie did as he was told. Thin, white and red scars covered his back. Richie knew that more were going to be added to the collection and he did not look forward to it. Inside he was screaming, whimpering, pleading for Keating not to do this, but the words fell silent on his tongue.

"Against the wall," Keating ordered.

He turned around, and walked to the wall, placing his palms flat against it. Richie squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of the first blow. He wanted to cry in fear, but a tear never fell to his cheek. Keating would call him weak and beat him more for it.

Richie cried out when the first lick hit his back. Preparing himself for it didn't take away the pain. Then came the second blow and another scream tore from Richie's lips. When the third hit his back, Richie's arms buckled and his body fell against the wall. He was still standing, pushing himself against the wall as much as he could. He wished the wall would open up and swallow him so he could get away from the pain.

Richie finally felt his skin split open. He felt warm blood ooze down his back. He was screaming almost non stop now. The pain was too intense, he felt like he was going to die. He couldn't take it anymore. His mind protested, but his body ried to side step Keating. Richie tried to run.

"You know better," Keating growled. He grabbed Richie and threw him to the ground. "No wonder that bitch got killed," He said between Richie's strangled screams. "What was her name? Amy, no Emily, that's it. She'd be alive if it weren't for you always getting into trouble. You are nothing, but an overgrown waste of space!" Richie frantically tried to scramble up, to get away from Keating's harsh words and ruthless beating, but the older mans foot in the middle of his back kept him down. Mercilessly Keating continued to whip the boy.

"Please," Richie cried hysterically, tears streaming down his face. "Please, Keating no more!" He struggled and fought to get up, but Keating was too strong. The more Richie struggled the harder the older man beat him.

Richie didn't know how long the beating went on. It seemed like it would never end and he prayed silently to die. He was more than grateful when the sweet abyss washed over him and took him away from the pain.

Richie moaned as his eyes fluttered open. Pain shot through him and he bit his tongue to keep from crying out. The last thing he wanted was for Keating to come back.

Richie sat up slowly. His body protested every movement. Richie looked around and realized he was in his bedroom. Four bare walls, a dresser, and a bed. Keating was just so good to him.

He hated Keating more than he had ever hated anyone in his life. He didn't understand why his foster father hated him so much. Richie wondered what he had ever done to make Keating have so much rage towards him.

Richie had no idea how long he'd been out. It was dark outside, so it had to be at least a few hours. The teen stood up, cringing as the skin on his back stretched. Movement pulled on the wounds sending a searing pain through his back. He walked to the door and opened it as quietly as he could. He peaked his head out to make sure Keating wasn't around. Seeing no sign of the man he silently walked to the bathroom.

Richie flicked on the light and shut the door. He sighed when he saw himself in the mirror. The sides of his ribs were purple. Keating must have kicked him a few times after he passed out. Richie turned to the side and looked at his back the best he could. It was covered in bloody lacerations and there were faint bruises from where Keating's boot had been.

Richie sighed. He couldn't take another beating like this. He wouldn't. Richie cleaned himself up as best he could and went back to his room. He grabbed his backpack and filled it with clothes. He opened his window and knocked out the screen. He eased himself out the window and took off.

"Keating didn't come after you?" Mac asked when the teen finished his tale.

Richie shook his head. "I guess he figured I wasn't worth it."

Mac put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "How long had you been living with Keating?"

Richie shrugged Mac's hand off. He was not in the mood to be touched right now. "They placed me with him when I was thirteen I think. I took off when I was fifteen. I figured I had a better chance on the streets than with Keating."

"Why didn't you ever go to the police?"

"I did, they didn't believe me."

"What do you mean they didn't believe you?" Mac asked incredulously.

Richie stood up and started pacing, a habit he seemed to be picking up lately. "I was a trouble maker. I'd go to them for help and Keating would swear that I came home that way. Because of my history of running away and getting into fights, no one doubted him."

"Not even with the scars?"

Richie shook his head.

The Highlander himself had never noticed any scars. Of course Richie didn't expose his body very much so that could very well be why. Richie had only been living with them for a couple of months. Mac knew the boy came from hard times, but he never thought it was anything that bad.

"You know that what happened with Emily wasn't your fault," Mac told the pacing teen.

"It doesn't matter, she's alive! She should have come back for me!"

Mac understood some of Richie's animosity towards Emily now. Had she come back for him, he wouldn't have suffered through all the beatings Keating had laid down on him. "Richie I'm sure she would have if circumstances had been different."

"I just don't understand," Richie said sinking back on the bed. "Why didn't she want me?"

"I'm sure Emily wanted you, tough guy," Mac said gently. "I just don't think she had the opportunity to come back for you."

Shaking his head, Richie said, "No, I think what Keating said was true. I'm nothing, but a giant waste of space."

The Highlanders heart was breaking at the look of weariness in Richie's eyes. "You are not a waste of space," He said adamantly.

"Sure I am," Richie replied. "That's why Emily didn't come back for me. She didn't want me."

"Richie, you are not a waste of space," The Highlander said, a hint of anger seeping into his voice. He wasn't angry at Richie, but he was furious with Keating. This man had drilled so much garbage into Richie's head it was ridiculous. "And the only way you're going to find out why Emily didn't come back is to go and talk to her."

"I know," Richie exclaimed. "But…"

"But what?"

"I'm scared all right," Richie said angrily. "Is that what you wanted to hear?" He got up and walked to his dresser. Richie pounded his fists on top of it, causing the whole thing to shake.

"What are you scared of?" Mac asked gently.

Richie turned around. Leaning against the dresser, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't know," He said meekly. "I just…."

"You're scared of what she's going to say," Mac said getting up and walking over to him. "And of finding out why she didn't come back for you."

Richie nodded. "But as much as I'm scared to find out, I need to know even more."

"So you've made your decision?"

Richie looked up into Mac's gaze. "I'm going to meet Emily."

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